


Obstacles

by orphan_account



Category: Smosh, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Desperation, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future!Smosh. Ian and Anthony are at a business meeting, and Ian really has to pee, but getting to a bathroom proves far more difficult than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony always tuned out during business meetings.  
  
He knew that it was a bad habit, but he also knew that he was horrible with business things anyway. Ian, on the other hand, was brilliant with it. He was always enthusiastic and professional, and he never tuned out the way Anthony did. That was why Ian got to make all the choices; Anthony just followed his lead. He trusted his boyfriend to make the right decisions, after all.  
  
However, Anthony couldn't help but notice that, during this particular meeting, Ian didn't seem to be very focused either.  
  
Ian was fidgeting in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and practically squirming in his seat. That was unusual; Ian was normally great at sitting still when it came to a professional setting. Anthony didn't pay much attention to it, though. Before he realized it, his mind was wandering off again.  
  
He didn't look up again until the meeting was over. He shook several people's hands as they left; he wasn't quite sure who most of them were.  
  
"Finally," Ian groaned as the room emptied. "I have to piss so bad."  
  
"Ohhh," Anthony said, grinning. "That explains the squirming."  
  
Ian blushed. "Was it that noticeable?"  
  
Anthony shrugged. "Kind of. It just looked like you'd had too much coffee or something."  
  
"That's pretty accurate," Ian replied, laughing. "Come on, let's get upstairs to our hotel room fast, okay?"  
  
"You have to pee that bad?" Anthony asked.  
  
"Maybe," Ian replied, smirking, "or maybe I just want to do things to you that can't be done in public."  
  
Shivers of arousal made their way up Anthony's spine. "Alright, let's go." He had to resist the urge to drag Ian out of the conference room by the hand; between rushing to film a video before they left, the long plane ride to New York, and the conference, they hadn't had time for anything more than rushed handjobs in the shower that morning. It had been almost four days since they'd last had sex.  
  
They were heading for the elevators when someone called out their names. Anthony spun around to see a man in a suit hurrying toward them. Anthony vaguely recognized him from the meeting; a representative from some company that was considering sponsoring them. He couldn't even remember the company's name.  
  
Thankfully, Ian smiled politely and reached out to shake the man's hand. "Mr. Andrews," he acknowledged.  
  
The man – Mr. Andrews – smiled back. "I was wondering whether we could quickly go over some of the details of my company's sponsorship proposal."  
  
Ian shifted subtly from one foot to the other. "Could we talk about it another time? We just arrived here last night, and we really haven't slept much in the last few days…"  
  
"I'm sorry, but my flight leaves in an hour," Mr. Andrews replied, shaking his head. "This is the only chance we'll have to talk about it, and we'll have to talk quickly; I'll have to leave for the airport in half an hour."  
  
Ian's face went pale, but he nodded stiffly. "Sure, that's fine." There was a badly-concealed note of distress in his voice. Anthony knew that he should tell Ian to go upstairs and use the bathroom, that he should try to handle this Andrews guy on his own, but he wasn't even sure what company he was from; he was suddenly desperately wishing that he'd paid more attention at the meeting.  
  
So all he could do was try to shoot Ian a reassuring look as they followed Mr. Andrews into the hotel's bar.  
  
"Go find a table," he instructed them. "I'll go get us some drinks."  
  
"D-drinks?" Ian stuttered, his eyes widening.  
  
"On me," Andrews assured him.  
  
"I… um… it's only ten in the morning, don't you think it's a little early?" Ian said desperately.  
  
"Just one drink," Andrews insisted.  
  
"Okay," Ian sighed, defeated. He motioned for Anthony to follow him over to a table.  
  
"Jesus, Ian," Anthony said, when they were out of earshot. "How badly do you have to go?"  
  
"Really fucking bad," Ian groaned.  
  
"Why don't you just use the bar bathroom?"  
  
Ian pointed to the bathroom door. A sign was hanging on it. _Out of order._  
  
"Shit," Anthony said. "Will you be able to hold it?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so," Ian replied. "He's leaving in half an hour, I should be able to last that long."  
  
Anthony nodded. Ian slid into the booth, and Anthony sat next to him. A few seconds later, Andrews returned from the bar.  
  
"Drinks," he announced, setting three beer bottles down on the table and sitting down across from Ian and Anthony.  
  
Ian swallowed nervously and uncapped his beer. He took a small sip, wincing slightly as he swallowed it. Anthony saw him slip one hand beneath the table to squeeze his crotch.  
  
"So, about our sponsorship deal…"  
  
As always, Anthony tuned out. He found himself watching Ian's face, the way he leaned forward as he listened, professional and interested. He was nodding along with what Andrews was saying, occasionally stopping to make points of his own. He must have looked calm enough from across the table, but from Anthony's position beside him he could see that Ian was crossing his legs tightly, one hand jammed into his crotch.  
  
Anthony was impressed with how well Ian managed to keep the business discussion going despite his obvious desperation. Anthony could hardly recognize Ian during these meetings; this professional, eloquent, confident Ian was so different from his goofy, sarcastic boyfriend. And yet at times like this he somehow found Ian even more attractive than usual. He'd even considered asking Ian to try some sort of business-meeting roleplay in the bedroom, but he was a little scared that Ian would laugh at him if he suggested it.  
  
Anthony was pulled out of his thoughts as Mr. Andrews stood up, shaking Ian's hand. Anthony forced himself back into reality and shook his hand as well before he left the bar.  
  
"Thank God," Ian moaned, once he was gone. "Let's get upstairs before my bladder explodes, okay?"  
  
"Sure, let's go." Anthony helped Ian up from his seat, and they hurried back into the hotel lobby. Ian jabbed impatiently at the elevator button, squeezing his legs together tightly.  
  
"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. Anthony squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.  
  
When the elevator doors finally slid open, Ian let out an audible sigh of relief. Anthony followed him inside. As soon as the doors closed again, Ian jammed a hand into his crotch and slumped against the wall, groaning softly.  
  
"I didn't think I was going to make it through that meeting," he said, laughing slightly. "Five more minutes and I would've pissed myself. I bet that would've been good for business." He grinned.  
  
"You did a good job of hiding it," Anthony said, impressed.  
  
Ian shrugged. "I had to. But God, when we get upstairs I'm going to fucking sprint to our hotel room. I've been holding it for so long, it's going to feel so good to finally –"  
  
Suddenly the elevator lurched to a halt, shuddering violently.  
  
"What –" Ian started to say, but he was cut off by an automated voice coming from a speaker above them.  
  
 _"The elevator has stalled. It should take our technicians no more than thirty minutes to fix it. Please remain calm."_  
  
But Anthony saw the panicked look that flashed across Ian's face.  
  
"Too late for that," he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thirty minutes?” Ian said hoarsely. “I can’t hold it for thirty minutes!”  
  
“Sure you can,” Anthony replied, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s not that long.”  
  
“Yes it is,” Ian groaned. “Oh God, I’m not going to make it.” He twisted his legs together tightly, one hand still pressed against his crotch.  
  
“You’ll make it,” Anthony said firmly. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend deeply, hoping to distract him.  
  
“Mmm,” Ian sighed into the kiss, tugging gently on Anthony’s bottom lip with his teeth. Anthony let out a soft moan; it seemed like it had been forever since they’d last had sex, and even this gentle kissing was driving him crazy.  
  
Suddenly Ian pulled away, doubling over and gasping. “Oh God,” he moaned aloud. “Fuck, I have to piss!” The last word came out as a desperate whimper that sent pleasant tingles down Anthony’s spine and straight to his dick. He felt bad about being aroused while his boyfriend was in such obvious discomfort, but something about the whole situation was strangely sexy.  
  
Ian must have noticed his expression, because he glared at him. "Anthony, I swear to God, if this is turning you on, I'm going to kill you."  
  
Anthony blushed. "Sorry, dude, it's just kind of sexy to see you all squirming and desperate like that."  
  
"You won't think it's sexy when I piss all over the floor," Ian grumbled.  
  
Anthony disagreed, but he decided that it was better to keep that particular opinion to himself. Instead, he squeezed Ian’s hand comfortingly. “I’ll always think you’re sexy,” he whispered, kissing Ian’s lips gently. Ian managed a small smile.  
  
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Hopefully they get the elevator fixed soon so we don’t have to put that theory to the test.”  
  
However, after another ten minutes, the elevator still hadn’t moved an inch.  
  
Ian was squeezing his eyes shut, leaning back against the wall and holding his crotch desperately. Small droplets of sweat were beading on his face.  
  
"I can't make it," he whispered, sliding down into a sitting position.  
  
"Yes, you can," Anthony said encouragingly.  
  
"No, I can't," Ian replied frustratedly. "I'm going to piss myself in this goddamn elevator and... and..." he trailed off, sighing. "Fuck," he said simply.  
  
Anthony sat down beside him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. "You'll make it, babe." He knew that Ian hated pet-names, but in this situation he figured that Ian would be grateful for any bit of comfort.  
  
"I don't want to have an accident," Ian said softly. His voice sounded small and shaky.  
  
Anthony squeezed his hand. "I'm sure they'll get this elevator moving soon. But hey, if they don't, it's no big deal. It's only me here. I've seen you piss yourself before."  
  
Ian shook his head. "That was different. We were drunk, and... and teenagers. I'm 27 years old now, Anthony. And I'm sober. I just came from a fucking business meeting, for fuck's sake. I can't... Not now. It's too embarrassing."  
  
“It’s not that bad, Ian.”  
  
“Yes it is!” Ian nearly shouted. Anthony flinched at the anger in his voice. Ian’s expression immediately turned guilty.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s just… I’m trying so hard to be confident and… and mature. With all these business meetings lately, with running the Smosh company, with everything. And then… this. I’m going to wet myself like a five-year-old.”  
  
Anthony sighed. “Ian, come on. This situation has nothing to do with maturity, and you know it. It’s just bad luck. The circumstances are out of your control.”  
  
Ian sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He dropped his head back against the wall. “Fuck, I just have to piss  _so bad_.”  
  
Suddenly, Anthony had an idea. He rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out an empty juice bottle from earlier.  
  
"You can pee in this bottle, okay?" He knew that it wasn't nearly big enough to contain the flood of liquid that Ian was dying to release, but he hoped that it would relieve at least some of the pressure.  
  
Ian was looking at the bottle hopelessly. "It's too small," he sighed.  
  
"I know, but it can hold a little bit. You'll just have to stop when it's full. It might help a little bit."  
  
Ian nodded. “Okay.” He fumbled with the zipper on his pants, tugging his jeans and boxers out of the way and pushing himself up into a kneeling position. Anthony held the bottle steady for him.  
  
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding. Ian held his flaccid dick tightly in one hand, using the other to steady himself against the wall, and guided the head of his penis to the bottle’s opening. Biting his lip, he slowly relaxed the muscles in his abdomen.  
  
Urine poured into the bottle with an audible hissing sound. A loud moan of relief escaped Ian’s lungs as he pissed forcefully into the small container, filling it halfway in a matter of seconds. Anthony tried not to watch, but he couldn’t help it; something about the sight was driving him crazy. He was mortified to discover a growing bulge in his jeans.  
  
The bottle was close to overflowing in Anthony's hand, but Ian was nowhere near done; his stream hadn’t even begun to slow. For a second he considered just letting Ian release it all, but he knew that Ian would never forgive him if he let him piss all over the elevator floor.  
  
"You gotta stop, Ian, it's full," he said gently.  
  
"I can't stop," Ian whimpered, as warm liquid from the overflowing bottle began to pour over Anthony's fingers. He briefly wondered if he should be disgusted. He wasn't, in any case.  
  
"It's getting all over the floor, babe," Anthony said. Ian swallowed and looked down at the spot where the elevator's gray carpet was quickly darkening from the fluids pouring over the rim of the bottle.  
  
"O-okay," Ian said shakily. He closed his eyes, squeezing his hand tightly around his dick and taking deep, shaky breaths. After several long seconds, he managed to stop the flow.  
  
"Oh God," he moaned. "It hurts."  
  
"I know," Anthony said softly. He screwed the top back onto the now-full bottle and stuffed it back into his bag; he could get rid of it later. “But do you feel any better?”  
  
Ian nodded, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping his fly again. “A little, I guess. But I can’t hold it much longer, Ant. How long has it been?”  
  
Anthony checked his phone. “Twenty minutes. Just another ten minutes to go, babe. Can you make it?”  
  
Ian groaned, squeezing his crotch absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

“I can hold it, fuck, I can hold it, I can – oh!” Ian let out a gasp, squeezing his crotch tighter with both hands. Anthony blushed, hoping that Ian wouldn’t notice the bulge that was growing in his own pants every time Ian almost lost it like that. He was trying not to look at Ian’s crotch, but he knew that there was a wet spot there; he’d seen it when Ian had removed his hands for a second to shift his position on the floor a few minutes ago. Anthony was almost positive that Ian had accidentally released a few more trickles of urine since then, and the thought was driving him crazy, filling his head with all sorts of obscene fantasies. It was getting harder and harder to convince Ian that he could hold it, when that was really the opposite of what he really wanted.  
  
“How long has it been?” Ian groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. Anthony checked his phone.  
  
“Thirty-five minutes,” he said softly.  
  
“They said thirty minutes,” Ian muttered. “We’re never going to get out of here. Fuck.”  
  
“I’m sure they’ll get us out of here soon,” Anthony said, squeezing Ian’s shoulder sympathetically. Despite how incredibly turned on he was by Ian’s desperation, he didn’t want Ian to be humiliated.  
  
“They’d better, or else I’ll -  _oh!_  Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_.”  
  
Anthony couldn’t help but look this time; the wet spot on the front of Ian’s jeans had grown to nearly the size of a baseball. Anthony wanted nothing more than to reach out and cup Ian’s crotch in his palm, to feel the wetness there, and – fuck, what was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be having thoughts like that, not while Ian was so distressed.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked guiltily.  
  
Ian nodded, clenching his jaw. “I just want to piss,” he murmured. “I just want to fucking piss, is that too much to ask?” He moaned softly, adjusting his position and shoving both hands between his legs again.  
  
He looked so gorgeous, squirming and groaning like that; Anthony couldn't resist. He grabbed Ian around the waist and pulled him into his lap, so that he was straddling Anthony's thighs. Ian tried to pull away, but Anthony held him tight.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Ian cried, alarmed. "Anthony, I swear to God, I'm going to piss on you, let me go!"  
  
"I don't care," Anthony replied. "It'll be easier this way. Less mess in the elevator."  
  
Ian shook his head frantically. "I can't, I can't, just let me go, I -"  
  
Suddenly, the elevator lurched upward. Ian gasped loudly, and Anthony felt a small gush of wetness on his thighs. He had to bite back a moan. For a second he was sure that Ian was going to lose it right there on his lap; the thought was so arousing that he half-wished it would happen.  
  
But Ian managed to stop the flow, grabbing his darkening crotch tightly.  
  
"Fuck, thank God we're moving," he groaned, struggling to his feet. Anthony was amazed that he hadn't just let go yet.  
  
The elevator reached their floor and stopped with a jolt. Ian whimpered slightly as a thin line of wetness appeared on the left leg of his jeans.  
  
"Come on, it's just down the hall," Anthony said encouragingly as the elevator doors opened.  
  
Ian nodded. "Let's hurry, okay?"  
  
They rushed down the hall to the doorway of their room. Anthony fumbled with the key card, unlocking the door and rushing inside. He heard the door slam shut behind him as Ian entered. Suddenly there was a gasp from behind him.  
  
“Fuck, Anthony, I’m gonna piss myself!”  
  
Anthony spun around. Ian was frozen in place on the tile floor of the room’s entryway, a desperate look in his eyes.  
  
"Ian, come on, you're almost there," Anthony urged, but he knew that it was too late; Ian was pissing himself for real, pissing a stream onto the floor beneath him through his already-wet jeans.  
  
"I... I can't," Ian moaned. "I can't stop it, Anthony, I can't."  
  
Anthony's heart swelled with affection. Ian looked so helpless, so panicked.  
  
"Just go, then," Anthony said softly.  
  
Ian looked him in the eyes and nodded. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed his body.  
  
It was like a dam had burst inside of him. Anthony's jaw dropped open as a torrent of liquid poured out through Ian's jeans with an audible hissing sound, soaking his shoes as a puddle spread over the tile floor of the entryway. The moan of relief that escaped from Ian's mouth was the hottest sound Anthony had ever heard. He felt his cock twitching excitedly.  
  
Ian had completely soaked his jeans, but he still wasn’t done. His legs seemed to give out, and he fell to his knees, landing heavily in the puddle he’d created. He spread his legs apart, moaning heavily as more urine continued to pool between them. Anthony watched in shocked arousal; he’d never seen someone piss for that long before. He could hardly believe that Ian’s bladder had held all that liquid.  
  
By the time he was finished, his entire body was shaking. He looked down at his wet jeans, then up at Anthony, a deep blush spreading across his face.  
  
“I’m so s-“  
  
Anthony didn’t even let him finish apologizing. He dropped the floor in front of Ian, ignoring the fluids that immediately soaked through the knees of his jeans, and kissed him passionately.  
  
After a few seconds he pulled away, resting his forehead against Ian’s.  
  
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered.  
  
“Um,” Ian said, staring at him. “What?”  
  
Anthony blushed. “I, uh… I thought it was… well…” He shook his head, grabbing Ian’s hand and moving it to his crotch. Ian’s eyes widened as he felt the bulge there.  
  
“You’re hard,” he said blankly.  
  
Anthony nodded, an embarrassed grin beginning to appear on his face.  
  
Ian burst out laughing. "Oh God, you would be turned on by me pissing myself like a complete idiot."  
  
Anthony shrugged, laughing along with him. He pulled Ian in for another kiss.  
  
When they pulled away, Ian glanced down and wrinkled his nose. “Okay, as much as I love sitting here in this puddle, these wet jeans are starting to get uncomfortable. How about we take a shower?”  
  
Anthony smiled. “That sounds great.”  
  
Ian struggled to his feet, helping Anthony up as well. As Ian approached the bathroom door, he glanced over his shoulder with a teasing smirk and wiggled his ass. It was surprisingly seductive for someone who was still wearing urine-soaked jeans.  
  
“You know,” he murmured, “it’s a pretty big shower. Lots of room for shower sex.”  
  
Anthony grinned, wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist from behind and kissing his neck.  
  
“I can hardly wait.”


End file.
